By Soumya Medanki
Bury me in June, when the fog has yet to come.
After I have followed close behind death with a skip in my step.
Perhaps some fine seeds shall honour me,
and a mightier oak than me will stretch out of my once weary lungs.
Maybe a bush of roses will grow out of my mouth,
so that something beautiful and true will cross my lips for once.
Or maybe a meadow will make good use of me,
and a swathe of daisies will grow from where my crooked brain once sat,
with two growing out of my eyes, so that I may see something worthwhile for once.
Let the loud rush of the river be my eulogy,
while the rabbits and their kin give their condolences.
I’ll keep warm with my dirt blanket,
and make a good week’s feast for the foxes when they come.
When death comes for me, hatchet in hand, whistling his jaunty tune,
I shall follow close behind him, so do remember to bury me in June.
Well written Soumya! Became an instant fan of your poetry!
That what I always keep telling the youngsters!!! Philosophy is not when you get old, but when while you are still young! That’s what can make the difference in the lives!
Anyone can be philosophical before dying, hoping to go to heaven!
Keep writing! Best wishes Soumya
So beautiful it is… and so deep.
Keep writing
So gracefully written.. surrendering the last breath to nature is indeed is beautiful!!
Your words are hauntingly beautiful raw, honest, and deeply moving…. I felt every line…You have a gift…. Keep writing…
Born in June, happiness rarely made a home in me… but if I’m to be buried, let it be just as you described in JUNE….what a beautiful, aching vision. Your words moved me beyond measure. Never stop writing, my love…God Bless You
Lovely imagery…deep and beautiful!
Amazing 👌
Very goth
It’s beautifully penned..
Amazing poetry! So deep!
Beautiful!